


A Hobby for Draco Malfoy

by telemancer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Finished, Out of Character, draco just wants a hobby, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telemancer/pseuds/telemancer
Summary: Have you wondered what Draco Malfoy was doing his fourth year when he wasn't bullying everyone, turning into a ferret, or being a rather unpleasant Slytherin? Telemancer - writing pair extraordinaire - knows the answer! He was finding a hobby! Unfortunately, finding something worth Draco's time is very difficult.





	1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts has really gone to the dogs, Draco Malfoy thought, reclining on a green velvet couch, legs draped over one armrest. But what am I supposed to do? Transfer to that freezing Durmstrang where they bang sticks on the ground and have almost NO hot girls? Ugh, definitely not. And there's not like there's a school on another planet headed by a magic lion or something! He sighed, feeling a tad bit bored. For almost an hour now, since Monday classes were let out, Draco had been sitting in the Slytherin Common Room, enchanting little pieces of paper to do everything he could think of. Burst into flames, follow people around, but now he couldn't think of even one more spell. The blonde rolled over, burying his pointed face in a silver pillow. He sighed louder.

"Um, Draco?" Crabbe said from the chair next to him.

"That's Supreme Ruler Of Absolutely Everything to you, Crabbe." The boy in question paused.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, whatever. What do you want, Crabbe? I'm very busy." Killing pieces of paper, Draco added in his head.

"Well, you sounded a little unhappy… " Vincent trailed off, looking to the person next to him for help.

"Is there anything we can do for you, Supreme Ruler Of Whatever It Was?" Gregory Goyle asked Malfoy.

"It's 'Absolutely Everything.' And unless you can make the lessons more challenging, convince the teachers to have Quidditch and the Triwizard, or find something, anything, for me to do, we're all screwed."

"What about Potter-baiting, sir?" Goyle offered.

"Oh, sure, it's good this year with him being a champion, but it just feels so first year. Crabbe, Goyle, we're fourth years for Merlin's sake, we should be doing bigger and better things, like not wasting hours enchanting little pieces of paper and doing the extra foot on essays!"

"Well, sir, I've always wanted to be a breeder." Crabbe said quietly.

"What the stupid Mudblood do you mean, Crabbe?"

"Of Kneazles, sir." Draco paused, looking at Crabbe with a strange expression on his face.

" … OF KNEAZLES? What is wrong with you two?"

"He just thought," Goyle started before realizing he had no idea what Crabbe thought.

"I just thought that I would try and help you. You seem to be in need of a hobby, and I thought of one for you."

"That sounded a little ungrateful, Crabbe. Change your tone of voice." Draco Malfoy stood up, glaring down his sharp nose to Crabbe. Vincent looked at his shoes. "C'mon, my men. Off to the library!" He pointed to the stone wall that was the door and strode outside. Gregory and Vincent shared a look before following the steely grey eyed blonde out.

A few staircases, a run in with Mudblood Granger and that ungrateful Blood-Traitor Weasley, and a couple of hallways later, they arrived in the desired area. Madam Pince looked up.

"I need books on breeding Kneazles," Draco Malfoy announced quietly.

"Go find them by-" Irma Pince stopped and furrowed her eyebrows. "You need what?"

"Books on breeding Kneazles!"

"Why do you need books on breeding Kneazles?"

"Are you questioning the Great and Noble House of Malfoy?"

"Yes," Madam Pince said without hesitation.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco humphed and stalked off with his nose in the air. Suddenly, he turned around and asked-

"Wait, where can I find books on breeding Kneazles?"

"The fourth shelf on the right but-" Draco just about ran away towards the shelf before Madam Pince finished talking, "Why do you need a book on breeding Kneazles?" She looked towards Crabbe and Goyle who had stood, watching the whole interaction.

"He's bored," Goyle supplied before following Draco. Madam Pince winced and went back to reading her book.

A few minutes later, Draco Malfoy left the library empty handed, but with two bulky boys trailing behind with five books each in their hands. Draco had a bit of a smirk on his face as he slid down the banister of a moving staircase.

"My valuable time will never be wasted again!" the blonde crowed. "I'll make so much money with my Kneazles and Father will be so proud!" Goyle peered over his stack of books.

"Sir, not to insult you or anything like that-"

"Think about what you're going to say, Goyle," Draco warned.

"Where are you going to get the Kneazles?"

"I shall write to my father that I need two Kneazles to practice spells on. He needs not know that I'm actually breeding them."

"Make sure to specify that they should be male and female, sir," Crabbe added.

"Don't tell me what to do! Malfoy's never follow anyone else's instructions!" A student coughed in disbelief as she passed Draco. He grabbed a book off Gregory's armful and threw it at the girl. It flew over her head. He frowned and said-

"My aim is horrid. OH, WHAT HAS THE WIZARDING WORLD COME TO? It must be all the blood tainting!" He threw himself against the wall and put his head in his pale hands.

"Don't worry, sir. The book was probably defective. I noticed that its shape was irregular." The trio looked at Goyle.

"Very good, Goyle. Now go fetch that book. I need it if we are to are succeed in our mission." Goyle retrieved "Bewitched Breeds - Breeding For Beginners" and the threesome marched back down to the dungeons.

A few hours later, only three books were still intact and Draco's aim had improved. The seven other books hadn't been quite to Draco's liking information wise (A notable sentence was "Kneazles aren't asexual. To create kittens, you need a boy and a girl." Draco's response was "MAYBE THEY DON'T HAVE PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT CLASSES IN THE WIZARDING WORLD BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO ACT LIKE WE'RE THREE YEAR OLDS!" and to throw the offending book at the Giant Squid outside the window.) and so had taken quite a beating. At least only one of them landed in the fire. Fortunately, the three books left had lots of tips on Draco's endeavor. Draco Accioed a quill, parchment, and ink to begin his letter to Father. The blonde pondered for a bit on the best way to deliver his request, two purebred Kneazles to practice spells on. After much ruminating, he decided on…

Father -

I need two purebred and expensive Kneazles to practice spells on.

Your son,

Draco

Draco smiled, satisfied with his letter. He whistled to his eagle-owl, Scorpio, and attached the letter. He reclined on the couch and began his Potions essay, even though it was due on Thursday, determined to do a good job for Professor Snape. He opened his books to refer to, dipped his quill (the finest Galleons could buy) into his inkwell (filled with the finest ink Galleons could buy) and formed the letters. The Wit-Sharpening Potion without armadillo bile would not be successful as a brew to become smarter, to say the least. Without this necessary ingredient to counteract the effects of fluxweed, betony, and ginger roots, this potion would become an expanding slime that combusted when in contact with steel in any form…

Three O worthy essays, five days without Quidditch, and loads of Potter-baiting later a large, wiggling package fell into Tracey Davis' weekend porridge. She screamed loudly, and all of Hogwarts looked up from their various breakfast delectables. When they saw it was just a normal girl covered in a slimy grey substance running away from a moving package which was dragging a large and very indignant owl behind it, the student body went back to their Saturday meals. Girls covered in porridge were normal at Hogwarts. Draco waited for everyone to look away before sending Crabbe to fetch the parcel. The meaty boy picked it up and tucked it under his arm as he walked away. It promptly attacked him. The blonde Slytherin sighed and resignedly started to help, also known as sending Goyle over. Together, the Slytherins wrestled it out the Great Hall without anyone important noticing. Draco finished his sausages before following his henchmen out of breakfast. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle waited until the safety of the boys dorm before opening the long-awaited package. Almost instantly, two catlike creatures jumped out, hissing and snarling. The boys jumped away from the ball of claws and teeth with frightening noises leaking out.

"Draco? Why are they attacking each other?" Goyle asked, hiding behind a trunk.

"They probably just had an uncomfortable journey," answered the blonde uncertainly."Maybe we'll just leave them alone for a bit?"

"Good idea, sir." Crabbe followed Goyle behind the trunk.

"In the meantime, I am going to the library to do more research, a task too advanced for you two. Don't embarrass me while I'm gone." Draco strutted out of the dorm, levitating a stack of books in front of his slim frame.

A few hours later Draco had uncovered many interesting informational tidbits on Kneazles (they like bowtruckles, males can become very territorial together but females get along fine, and most are terribly allergic to dried scarab beetles). He was in a great mood as he walked back to the dungeons floating a couple of new books, proud of how well his adventure had gone so far. Soon the blonde arrived by the seemingly blank wall and tried to remember the password.

"Parseltongue, no, that was last week. Hmm. Oh yes, Salazar!" A door appeared, Draco entered, and instantly got ambushed by a furry blonde object. The human blonde squealed, dropped the spell holding the books which subsequently dropped the books, and tried to bat the thing off his shoulder. It growled and sniffed Draco's pale hand. Right away, the Kneazle's demeanor changed. It began purring and rubbing up against Draco. He smiled at it serenely and walked deeper into the Common Room. He tripped on an overturned chair and fell to the floor, the magic cat mewling as it ran away. Draco cursed the chair and got up, making sure no one noticed his momentary lapse into clumsiness. After the Common Room was sufficiently scanned, Draco realized something. Usually, at this time, the Common Room was filled with Slytherins and usually, at this time - actually, always, it was in pristine condition. Now, the underwater room was destroyed, scratch marks everywhere, all the furniture stuffing leaking out like some stuffed animal run over by a car. And nobody could be seen throughout the large dungeon. Draco nonchalantly shrugged and continued - oh, who am I kidding? Draco shrieked, theories blossoming in his mind (werewolf, Gryffindors, angry mob of Mudbloods, Father, werewolf), and began sprinting to the hopeful safety of his dorm. On the way, a black devil-Kneazle jumped towards his face but Draco Impedimenta-d it before the thing could do any damage. Once in the dorm, he let out a relieved sigh. The bed on the far left jumped.

"IT'S THE WEREWOLF! NO, IT'S THE GRYFFINDORS! WAIT, IT'S THE ANGRY MOB OF MUDBLOODS! IT'S FATHER! IT'S FATHER TURNED INTO A WEREWOLF!" Draco screamed.

"Sir?" A hesitant voice leaked out from under the bed.

"IT CAN TALK!" Draco wailed.

"Draco Malfoy, is that you?"

"IT KNOWS MY NAME! WHO ARE YOU?"

"It's Vincent," said a voice that sounded suspiciously like Crabbe's.

"And Gregory," said another voice that sounded suspiciously like Goyle's.

"Um. Why are you all under the bed?" Draco asked. "You can come out now."

"Are the monsters gone?" Crabbe asked, army crawling out from under the bed, Goyle following.

"THERE ARE MULTIPLE WEREWOLVES?" Draco looked around and dived behind the curtains of his bed.

"No… There aren't any werewolves, just the Kneazles you ordered who are fighting," Goyle explained as he brushed dust off himself.

"They're the ones who tore apart the Common Room?"

"Yeah, they've been fighting for hours now, I reckon. Everyone is either stuck in their dorms or ran away when they had the chance. We got stuck in here." Crabbe was now siphoning dust off of Goyle's shirt.

"Why are they fighting?" Draco pondered.

"We don't know, sir."

"I wasn't asking you idiots. We'll have to do some research using the books I…" Draco trailed off, realizing something. "I dropped the books in the Common Room!"

"What does that mean, sir?" Crabbe asked, his eyes growing bright.

"It means… I have a mission for you!"

"Dragon Agent FizzingWizzbees reporting to duty, sir!" Goyle said as he saluted and clicked his heels together.

"Dragon Agent BertieBotts reporting to duty also, sir!" Crabbe said as he saluted and clicked his heels together.

"Are you imposters?" Draco asked, strutting in a circle around the two agents.

"Yes!" they chorused. "We work for David Malloy!"

"Password?" Draco asked.

"We buy the candy from the Candy Man!" A sick, twisted smile spread over Draco's face at his henchmen's' words.

"Then Dragon General CandyMan is directing these agents."

If you were currently hiding out in one of the Slytherin dorms, the only reason you would think the Dragon Agency was on a mission would be from the noises coming from the Common Room.

If you were currently plotting away in your office filled with strange, magical tools, the only reason you would think the Dragon Agency was on a mission would be from that niggling suspicion in the back of your head.

If you were currently on a Dragon Agency mission, the only reason you would think the Dragon Agency was on a mission would be, well, because you were on one.

If you were currently an angry Kneazle in the middle of a vicious battle with another angry Kneazle, the only reason you would think the Dragon Agency was on a mission would be from the three boys attacking you.

"CHARGE!" Draco Malfoy yelled, commanding his two armored troops. And they were, in fact, armored. Blankets, curtains, pillows, robes, and random pieces of fabric were attached to the two Dragon Agents. They split off, one catapulting over a fallen couch and assuming a sniper position. His wand was his gun, and Gregory Goyle scanned the room.

"The subjects are not in range. BertieBotts, continue mission!"

"Roger that, FizzingWizzbees!" Crabbe stalked along the perimeters, keeping tabs on his fellow Dragons. He hid behind an armchair, slowly peeking out his head before crawling towards a green velvet curtain. He disappeared behind it.

"Agent BertieBotts, what are you doing?" Draco asked, staring at the lump in the curtain.

"Hiding behind a curtain, CandyMan!" A muffled voice came from the lump.

"Why, BertieBotts?"

"So the subjects will not see me, CandyMan!"

"That is not the object of your mission! You must retrieve the treasure, BertieBotts!"

"Yes sir, CandyMan!" Crabbe slipped out from behind the curtain and continued towards where Draco had dropped his books. He kept his stealthy path, kneeling behind furniture, spinning full 360's around the room. Goyle kept his kneeled position, obviously covering Crabbe, while Draco directed the two piece chess game. All was well until…

"Code Red, I repeat, CODE RED!" Crabbe said, backing away from a pillow.

"What is it, Agent BertieBotts?" Draco asked nervously.

"The subject is before me… ASLEEP ON A PILLOW!"

"Where is the treasure?" CandyMan asked.

"Around and under the subject." Crabbe raised his wand, prepared to shoot. Draco cursed. "I'm sorry, CandyMan. I'm not familiar with that spell. How should I proceed?"

"That was me swearing, not a spell, BertieBotts. I don't have enough information to proceed. What color is the subject?"

"Blonde," Crabbe answered. Draco took this in.

"Still proceed with caution, BertieBotts, but go ahead and take the books."

"Yes sir, CandyMan!" Crabbe began picking up the books. A few seconds later he screamed - like a girl, actually no, like a scared boy - and jumped away.

"IT WOKE UP!" Vincent said shrilly.

"I got it!" Goyle said and began a Stunning spell.

"SSSTTTOOOPPP!" Draco yelled. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as the blonde boy tackled Goyle. The red light flew across the room, Draco looking at it in fear, and all of a sudden -

THUNK.

The spell, originally aimed at the Kneazle, hadn't hit its desired target. When Draco tackled Gregory, the course had been altered and the Stupefy had hit Dragon Agent BertieBotts. Crabbe fell, hitting the floor hard. Draco ran towards him, past him, and grabbed the books and the Kneazle.

"FizzingWizzbees, levitate BertieBotts back to the dorm." Goyle obeyed.

Over the next week, many things had happened. Many, many, many things. Most were stupid and pointless - like going to the bathroom - , and only a small percent actually pertain to the Slytherins. First, Draco had reread his books and realized that he never specified for different gender Kneazles so his father must have gotten two males. Also known as, no Kneazle kittens were going to be born in the Slytherin dorms any time soon. Second was that the Kneazle war in the Common Room had escalated into a full blown battle - including the Slytherins. They had all taken sides as to which Kneazle should have the territory and the true personalities of the creatures had surfaced. The black Kneazle was evil, pure evil. It attacked without warning, bit and scratched like a werewolf, and had a horrible tolerance for petting. Naturally, all the Slytherins loved it. Except for a few. Namely, Draco Malfoy's year. Now, this really was a mystery considering the blonde cat was a Hufflepuff in Kneazle form. It was cuddly, silly, and overall very loveable. And so, Draco took a likeness to it and christened it 'Draco The Second'. Draco The Second's very favorite thing to do was sit in Draco The First' lap while Malfoy schemed and laughed very evilly. However, not all cute, fluffy Kneazle stories can last forever. Something had to be done about this rivalry that was destroying the Slytherin Common Room furniture. And so commenced Draco's year versus all the other Slytherins in which Kneazle would stay. They held debates, meetings, secret meetings, and garden parties. They bribed people, became double, triple, even quadruple agents, and basically did very Slytherin-y activities. There were masks, banners, and new societies. Draco debated, attended public and secret meetings, bribed, went behind everyone's back - even his own - , and made lots of merchandise for his society. Finally, there was only one thing left to do. A garden party.

"My fellow Snakes," Draco Malfoy began, holding a wineglass full of pumpkin juice. "I am here today to remedy a grave problem that has devoured our Common Room. The Kneazle feud has gone on long enough. I propose that we keep the blonde Kneazle. I have listened to all of the Black Kneazle Society's arguments and have thought up one fact that destroys everything else. The Kneazles are mine. I ordered them, I paid for them, I decide what to do with them. Whine all you want, but the Black Devil has to go." His speech was met by mixed emotions.

"Yeah! No more Black Devil!" Pansy yelled.

"That blonde Kneazle is too soft! Like a Hufflepuff! Hufflepuffs aren't allowed in the Slytherin dorms!" yelled a seventh year for the evil Kneazle.

"NO MORE HUFFLEPUFFS! NO MORE HUFFLEPUFFS! NO MORE HUFFLEPUFFS!" The Black Kneazle Society roared, while a blonde boy wearing a yellow tie ran away from the Slytherin garden party location.

"Draco The Second is mine! I have a license, I am allowed to keep him!" Draco said over the noise. No one heard him so the blonde enchanted his voice.

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING THE GREAT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF MALFOY? MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!" The mob went silent. A Slytherin in a Kneazle mask inlaid with dark, shimmering jewels made his way to the front.

"Draco Malfoy, sir, the Black Kneazle Society has decided that you should decide which pet to keep, as they are your property," the masked person said in a weedy voice.

"Thank you. This garden party is now without a point." Draco announced. All the Slytherins there left, walking away from fairy lights and cookies shaped like tulips. "Well, I thought that was a success," Draco added, following his Housemates.

"Definitely, sir," Goyle agreed.

"But sir, what are we going to do with the other Kneazle?" Crabbe asked.

"Oh, I have a plan. I always do."

The next day, Rubeus Hagrid went to Madam Pomfrey for a nasty looking bite on his hand. As it was wrapped, the half-giant rambled on about Pudding, the friendly Kneazle who showed up on his stoop. The best part was that it had only bit him four times today!

The same day, an hour after Hagrid got his hand treated, a blonde boy rushed into the greenhouses where Professor Sprout was working. The kindly teacher heard heavy breathing and turned around.

"Oh, hello, Macmillan. What can I do for you?" Professor Sprout asked of the panting boy leaning on a mound of soil.

"Professor Sprout!" Ernie said breathlessly but still managing to be pompous. "I wanted to inform you that the Slytherins are going to murder all of your House!"

"Uh, Ernie… What makes you think that, my dear boy?"

"Yesterday, they were scheming together at a garden party! They had masks and secret societies and they obviously thought up an evil plan to exterminate the loyal Badgers! Those Slytherins were chanting 'NO MORE HUFFLEPUFFS!'"


	2. Chapter 2

"Did you hear?" whispered an unimportant Ravenclaw who is only here for a dramatic exposition. "Draco Malfoy is falling in love with Hermione Granger!"

"Really?" replied an equally as unimportant Gryffindor. "This could mean… Danger! Pansy Parkinson is going to throw a fit! So is Ron Weasley, I bet. I heard he's falling in love with Hermione too!"

"I know! All this drama is so obvious, they may as well sing a bloody song about it where Draco and Ron both clearly state that they're falling in love, falling in love, falling in love… With Hermione Granger! I'm sorry, did I just stutter?" The Ravenclaw got over her momentary speech impediment that caused her to repeat a few words, and looked over the Gryffindor's shoulder. "Danger! Snape alert!"

The Potions Master swooped into the room, and the gossipers fell deathly quiet.

"Good morning, students," Snape began, the thinly veiled disgust in his voice indicating that it really was not a good morning. "Today, we will be discussing - not our usual curriculum - but another topic that other teachers and I believe is very important."

There was a brief moment of silence as the students attempted to figure out what subject they were covering today. Snape cleared his throat awkwardly, and some would swear then that they saw a little bit of the teacher's dignity, self-respect, and soul trickle out onto the cold stone floor.

"We're addressing…" Snape cleared his throat once more and held up a thick pamphlet. "Physical health and human development."

The entire class groaned, and the Head of Slytherin House died a little - a lot - inside.

Queenie was still cringing over the recent string of education at Hogwarts. Not only were the classes useless and offensive to Queenie in her current situation, but they were also overly awkward and cringe worthy. The Selwyn could literally identify who had had a class recently by the look of pain etched in their faces and the uncontrollable twitching.

But Queenie had to admit, she didn't mind the classes. Because they stopped - or, more likely, delayed - the confrontation. The Slytherin knew she had majorly screwed up when she yelled at Draco instead of putting a few good words in for Pansy, but she couldn't help it - Draco was looking at that girl like - ugh. Queenie couldn't even explain it.

But luckily, what with all of the drama about the new classes, Pansy and her Posse had spent the last few days ignoring Queenie instead of accosting her. The girl liked this, of course, and appreciated the alone time, but she couldn't help feeling like the fight would be even more painful after days of avoiding. She only hoped that Pansy would be merciful and not let slip Queenie's secret. If that happened… Who knows what would be next? The Selwyn family would not be happy with her, and her friends were more likely to bully her than not, and the whistles and bothering and whispering would just increase. Queenie didn't know if she could handle that. But despite that, she always walked through the hallways - back straight, head up - with a not-frown on her face.

The next few weeks passed sort of normally? Draco tried out a few other hobbies and they all left him feeling emptier than before. Knitting was a bust, but Draco had a feeling it would be. He'd only recently discovered how sweaters and scarves were created (he always just thought they sort of… grew off trees or something) and right away, the novelty of the process drew the Malfoy in. He was so enchanted that he went to a HOUSE ELF for help!

Draco Malfoy going to a House Elf for help? Willingly? Unheard of!

But the particular House Elf that offered to help the student was. So. Rude!

Just because Draco dropped a few (read: all) of his stitches and sometimes (read: always) got frustrated, doesn't mean that the House Elf is allowed to viciously mouth off at Draco and throw him out!

Yeah… Basically, knitting was a total bust.

Then, Draco tried some painting. As a child, he had taken a few sketching classes - at the request of his mother, but never painting. The Malfoy found a portrait of someone painting, a certain artist named Sir Vaisley. Soon, Draco was taking Corridor Art Lessons every Thursday and Sunday. Sir Vaisley quickly discovered that Draco was not proficient at surrealism, conceptual art, pop art, or photorealism. The master of painting didn't want to fail his young pupil, so he introduced Draco to splatter painting. This was a very, very, very bad decision. The white-blonde boy got very excited at the prospect of splatter paint, enchanted his brush, and… Let's just say that the painting of Sir Vaisley is now very abstract, an entire hallway was blocked off because of the paint splatters coating the walls, and that splatter paint was now banned at Hogwarts.

Painting didn't work out exactly as Draco had planned.

After many other (failed) attempts of finding a new hobby - some examples include synchronized swimming in the Black Lake, fashion designing, being "nice", selling beanies on Etsy, writing fanfiction, and painting nails - Draco decided on something that definitely couldn't fail.

A book club.

Crabbe and Goyle weren't allowed to be in the book club because Malfoy still hadn't confirmed that Goyle could read and Crabbe was such a nerd, so Draco put signs up all over the school reading "Book Club, Wednesdays in the Library at 5 pm, bring one of your favorite books :)". The smiley face was courtesy of Blaise Zabini.

And come Wednesday, six o'clock, five people besides the Malfoy showed up, much to Draco's delight then direct disgust.  
Severus Snape had this way of darkening every room he was in with sorrow and regret. He could quiet the Great Hall with a sniff from his hooked nose and dampen the twinkle in Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes. And when Severus Snape swooped into the Potion's Classroom on that cold Thursday, Draco Malfoy felt fear like never before. The young boy sat in his rickety chair in front of the Professor's desk, platinum hair glowing sickly green in the light of liquid filled jars, and cursed his blundering Hufflepuff of a cat that had caused this terrifying audience with the dreaded Head of Slytherin House. The greasy haired man sat in his throne and glared chillingly at Draco.

"Do you know why you have been called here, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape said in that whispery, lingering drawl.

"Yes, Professor Snape, sir," Draco replied, shaking in his purple snake patterned socks.

"In the last week and a half, I assigned eight essays. The first, on the importance of armadillo bile, you received an Outstanding on, the same grade you have gotten on my assignments from your first day of Hogwarts. The next essay, on the danger of ingesting unicorn hoof clippings - "

Blah, blah, I have no life, blah, I hate everyone, blah, blah, was all Draco identified coming out of the Potions Master's mouth from then on. Draco respected his teacher, feared him, and usually obeyed him but, right now, he did not want to listen to anyone describe his failures in the past week. Draco knew he hadn't handed in any assignments in the past week or so. He had already received this talk from the majority of his other teachers and he had already felt horrible about it. Although, Draco usually felt horrible. He was rarely happy, the blonde was. When he wasn't guilty about not doing his homework, he was hating himself for being so mean to everyone. But it really wasn't his fault. Well, yes it was, but it was hard for Draco Malfoy to be kind to everyone else when no-one was kind to him. It was difficult for the Slytherin to respect other Houses when they all stereotyped him. Every time Draco walked down the hallway, whispers would crawl into his slightly pointed ears and infest his brain.

The Slytherins are so horrible. They're evil, dirty, little Death Eaters who kill Muggles for fun. But that Draco Malfoy is the worst. He hates Harry Potter, calls Muggleborns Mudbloods, and practices Unforgivables on the school owls. That Draco Malfoy is worth nothing but dirt.

All Draco wanted was to fit in, maybe to even be a little successful, to start a happy family. He didn't want to be Father, who manipulated people for fun, who worked for the Dark Lord, who gave him lessons on how to swoop into rooms dramatically instead of Christmas presents. Nor did Draco want to be Mother, who barely spoke anymore and was too weak to even stand up to her husband when he held her wrist too tight and left blue marks on her deathly skin. The only option left for Draco was to be a Slytherin, to fit in with his Housemates, and be the 'evil, dirty, little Death Eater'. It was to be shunned by other Houses, whom he barely knew, for being a Slytherin, or to be shunned by all of Hogwarts, even his closest friends and only family, for being a nice Slytherin. Draco Malfoy choose what anyone would chose.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape said, interrupting the blonde's thoughts. "You're not paying attention."

"No, sir, I'm not."

"Why? What is more important than listening and respecting your Head of House?"

Draco considered lying, but that uncanny ability of Snape's to look into your eyes and tell you exactly what you were thinking about changed his mind.

"I don't like being a Slytherin. I feel so alone. Everybody pushes me to be cruel, and then they hate me for it, and that's not who I want to be."

Snape didn't speak for the longest time. He looked at Draco, at this helplessly young boy who was so horribly lost in a terrifying world, with an indescribable look in his eyes. It looked like pity for a moment or maybe the emotion closest to love Severus Snape could muster. It made Draco want to cry, that lack of life in Snape's life. What had gone so wrong in the Potions Master's life to make this amount of depressed oblivion live in his cold, black eyes? Could this happen to Draco? He hadn't been happy for the longest time. There must be some sort of something in his eyes that conveyed his emotions. Hadn't someone said that your eyes are the windows to your soul? What if your soul was cold and black and dying? Did that mean your eyes look freezing and dark and waning?

A tear rolled down Draco's cheek. He did his best to hide it by pretending to be suddenly interested in a pickled newt on the shelf a few feet away. Snape awkwardly shuffled around in his desk while Draco hurriedly wiped the water away. When the young boy had turned back, Snape was holding a small statue of a deer, but without antlers, made out of moving white fog.

"Because you have been satisfactory in your academic performance before now, I will pardon you from the past essays," said Snape, rubbing the small statue between his fingers.

Draco thanked him, relieved. "I promise I'll do better, Professor Snape. Is there anything I can do in return?"

"Make sure you'll never have to come into my office again. Now leave me, Draco. It is no help for you to be in the company of a broken man."

Draco was returning to the Slytherin dorms after stopping in to the bathroom. He had found a rarely used one and stared into the mirror for a good thirty minutes, trying to discern the emotions in his eyes. There were none. He had tried putting a smile on his thin lips, to inject happiness in his eyes, but the smile felt foreign and unfamiliar. He had left, hopeless and lost as ever. But on the way back, he had run into a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor. Draco was going to stride right past, but she stepped in his way.

"Why are you so mean, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione Granger peered up at Draco's angular face. "Why are your eyes so empty?

Draco sent her a meaningless glare, just because she was smearing his sadness all over his face like apricot jam, and stalked off. He could feel her melting brown eyes on his robed back and both of their hearts broke a little bit.

All the way across the school from Hermione and Draco, Pansy Parkinson caught up to someone and grabbed her wrist tightly, tugging the girl into a closet.

"What the - " the girl began as Pansy cast a Lumos and revealed her face. "Pansy?"

"Queenie," Pansy whispered dramatically. "I know about you."

The next day, after a long night of potion induced sleep, Draco threw himself into his schoolwork and classes. He raised his hand, actually took notes in History of Magic, and impressed his teachers so much that his overall grade changed overnight. Whispers were flitting around the school like freshly caught Cornish Pixies, outlandish theories about why Draco Malfoy was improving his grades. His personal favorite was that he was having 'private relations' with all the teachers. (His least favorite was the one that Father had threatened to kill him if he didn't bring up his grades.) Draco had done his best to ignore everyone, but one brown-eyed stare was unavoidable. It was so annoying how, in every class they had together, his eyes would automatically drawn to hers. Every time! If Draco had been a romantic, he would've blamed fate. Instead, Draco had grown up with one of the most hurting marriages and couldn't imagine a happy family. So when he found himself once again locking eyes with that stupid Hermione Granger, there was no-one to blame but himself.

Pansy and Queenie Selwyn were in the Slytherin Common Room, doing homework. Pansy caught her companion's attention.

"I won't tell anyone, and I won't kick you out of our friend group, but that's disgusting. You're a freak." Tears fell onto Queenie's parchment. Queenie Salasia Selwyn wasn't religious, but in that moment, she recognized the devil inside Pansy Parkinson. Suddenly, the girl looked up at Pansy. Her eyes were fierce.

"I hate you, and you can't control me." Queenie stalked away. Pansy sealed her lips and swore to keep the secret, no matter what she told Queenie.

Life for Draco Malfoy returned to normal after a few days, when he had caught up with schoolwork, practiced smiling for fifteen minutes before bed, and stopped staring at the brown-haired Muggleborn Gryffindor. Unfortunately, normal life was extremely, and I mean extremely, boring. When a cat named after you throwing up a sock is the height of excitement of your day, you know you're in trouble. And when Draco The Second had left a little "present" by the fireplace and Blaise Zabini had recognized it as his missing footwear, all Draco could say had been "Thank Wizard God for Vanishing Charms." After that excitement was over, and Pansy's clique stopped squealing, Draco dived into his homework. Being rebuffed and scolded by all his teachers was a good wake-up call for the blonde and recently, schoolwork was all he had been doing. Essays, reports, you name it, they were all being completed by Draco Malfoy. Lately, you could always find Draco lying on some piece of furniture and, tongue poking out between his teeth, scrawling away about mind-boggling subjects (like the usage of troll nail clippings). The Slytherins were all amazed, especially Pansy Parkinson and her friends. In fact, they were sort of obsessing about it. The Pansy Parkinson Posse (or PPP) weren't particularly smart, pretty, successful, rich, or anything. They were just… there. Always whispering, clinging, and creating drama. If you were to spend a week with the PPP, Millicent Bulstrode would be kicked out every day, Daphne Greengrass would run out of the dormitory sobbing at least seven times, Queenie Selwyn would end up mouthing off to approximately six teachers over the course of a week, Tracey Davis would find a new best friend to hang out with but then come running back to the PPP, and Pansy Parkinson, their valiant leader, would come up with a new scheme to get Draco to fall in love with her. (The last one had involved three different potions and Draco the Second's left whisker, which Malfoy's cat, being a stupid Hufflepuff, had been all too happy to give her.) But what you would ultimately spend all of your time doing, would be hunting for gossip. Anything that the PPP found vaguely interesting was debated, then fed back into the Hogwarts Rumor Mill. And when Draco began studying like a true 'prep', the Slytherin girls practically fainted with excitement. Almost instantly, an Emergency Gossip Meeting was called.

"This EGM is in session!" Pansy Parkinson said in a bossy tone, looking down at a roll of parchment. "Daphne Greengrass?"

The blonde looked up from her rumpled skirt and announced her presence. Pansy continued roll.

"Tracey Davis?"

"Here. And Padma Patil calls me 'Trace' which I much prefer over Tracey. You guys are such horrible friends." Tracey flipped her raven hair and glared at them through the veil of hair. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Is a fat idiot!" Queenie finished, her arms crossed defiantly like true drama-diva. Daphne burst into tears.

"You're so mean! Wizardkind is so mean! It just makes my heart break!" Daphne yelped through sobs, arms failing, skirt rumpling further. Millicent mistook this for Daphne standing up to her and gave the Greengrass girl a hug. Daphne pushed her away.

"Wizard God, Mill! Get off me, you fat idiot! Just because Queenie is a total meanie doesn't mean you can hug me!"

Queenie took offense to Daphne's slight. "I don't want to break your heart," she said. "I just want to give your heart a break! From the lies and deceit of the rest of the school. I've pledged to tell the truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth! So, Daphne, if I want to tell you that you look like a drowned rat who has obviously dyed hair - yes, I can see the roots! Get it redone, for Merlin's sake - I can!" Then she stuck her lily-white Grecian nose in the air and looked very pleased with herself.

"Well, I guess Queenie's here," muttered Pansy. "On with the meeting?" She looked around at her not-so-loyal subjects and sighed. She should be doing better things than ordering around a chubby female wrestler, a black-haired betrayer, a bleached pixie who never stopped crying, and a dramatic diva who insulted people rather than deal with her pressing problems, like the six very noticeable tears in her skirt or her trashy makeup. It was like they were straight out of a counseling session! But, they were her friends, and everyone knew you couldn't be a trophy-wife without your close circle of therapy mongers.

"Recent intelligence, also known as Millicent because she blends in with the curtains, has informed me that Draco Malfoy has been-"

"Warbeck's whining widows, Draco Malfoy again?"

"Just shut up, Queenie!" Pansy couldn't take her sass anymore. She was going to hit the Selwyn, and she was going to hit her good. "At least I can tell people I like Draco!"

Silence followed the comment. Queenie returned Pansy's hard glare for a second, then looked away as tears filled her eyes. Pansy almost felt bad for her taunt, but instantly shunned the pity. It was Queenie's fault she liked that person, and Pansy was never going to let her forget it. The diva was always insulting Pansy, why shouldn't she be able to return the favor?

"Draco Malfoy has suddenly started studying a very large amount. Why is this?"

"Maybe he wants to get better grades?" Daphne suggested.

"Like you? Because at some point, your grades have to get better. They can't get any worse, can they?" Queenie turned her hard green-grey eyes towards Daphne, whose eyes were brimming with tears again.

"Why'd you have to go and make Queenie mad?" The Greengrass addressed Pansy. "Now she's going to insult us extra!"

"Maybe Malfoy just wants to focus on his essays? I'm sure he missed some what with all the Kneazle drama. I bet Snape really got onto him for that." Millicent provided, trying to move the conversation away from Queenie's problems. Tracey perched on the end of the bed and examined her fingernails.

"No way! That's absurd," Pansy argued. "My theory makes much more sense. The only time you really change yourself, is when you are trying to impress someone. So who is Draco impressing? Obviously not his teachers, contrary to the untrue rumor that he's having relations with them, so it must be a student. Someone smart, someone who values hard work and commitment. Who does that sound like?"

"You?" Millicent offered, trying to get back in Pansy's good graces.

"True, true," blushed the Parkinson. "But someone who expresses these qualities in overwhelmingly quantity. Someone who rubs off like an obnoxious… little… gopher. Maybe someone like… Hermione Granger?"

Daphne, Millicent, and Tracey brought out the evil yet stunning smirks that Pansy had them practice for hours. Queenie got up and walked out, slamming the door. Two birds in one stone, Pansy Pearle Parkinson thought cunningly, that mere-cat Hermione… and that basket-case, Queenie. I'll get Draco to fall in love with me and while I'm at it, I'll take down Hermione Granger and Queenie Selwyn.

Professor Flitwick had finally let the Slytherin-Gryffindor class apply the theory to the real-life application. Or, as the students preferred to see it, time they could use to chat and not actually do work! Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Queenie Selwyn took up a table in the back and began their plan.

"Millicent," Pansy directed, general of her troops. "Report?"

"Well, no evidence points against the theory that Malfoy has a crush on Granger, but - "

"Disgusting little horse-toothed ferret!" Pansy gasped, getting into the swing of things.

"How dare he like that thing! She smells like Hagrid's list!" Daphne said, slamming her little toddler hands onto the table.

"We have to do something about his affliction!" Tracey added heatedly.

"Tell him he shouldn't change himself for someone else," Queenie muttered sadly. Nobody heard her.

"We should all tell him that he shouldn't change himself for someone else! Like, not imply that we know about Granger, but use someone as an example." Tracey Davis continued.

"Perfect. Let's use someone who hasn't gone through that exact situation, as her's is quite unique. But she still knows the pain of forbidden and unrequited love..." Pansy turned to Queenie, eyes narrowed. "Selwyn."

Queenie walked up to the table where the male Slytherin's in her year sat. She sidled in beside Draco, attracting a few whistles from the other boys there. This was why she hated them. So maybe she was a bit more… developed than the rest of the girls her age, but that was no reason to treat her like meat. But Queenie stiffened her resolve and got on with it. The faster, the better.

"Draco," she whispered into his ear, repeating exactly what the PPP had coached her to. "We know it's hard sometimes, but you can't change yourself for someone else. Maybe there's someone who loves you for who you are. Maybe that someone is just a foot away, or perhaps exactly two table away…" Queenie made alludes to Pansy, just as the devil had insisted. But Draco didn't seem to be interested.

"Quebec," Draco said, his steely gray eyes focused across the room. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested." Queenie followed his eyes, and rage suddenly poured into her soul. No way was an annoying, petty, immature boy going to get the perfection that was the bushy-haired girl reading a book in the corner. She spun back around to Draco, sleek ponytail whipping him in the face. Her skihill nose was right up against his and she focused all her internal pain and angst and anger and hatred for the whole, wide world into one glare.

Draco Malfoy withered. Queenie smirked and put on the most patronizing voice ever.

"You take your gross, creepy, Hagrid's List eyes off of that girl over there and you look at me. Burn my face into your mind because soon, you will be seeing a lot of me. With your stupid existence, you are insulting the one thing that my broken heart loves." She began to walk off but turned on her heel a few steps away to look straight at that shivering, sniveling Draco Malfoy. "Oh, and my name isn't 'Quebec'. It's Queenie Salasia Selwyn. You ticked me off. Prepare to die."

And for the second time in three days, Draco Malfoy was properly and utterly terrified. Who knew that girls could be as scary as the overgrown bat named Severus Snape?


	3. Chapter 3

"Did you hear?" whispered an unimportant Ravenclaw who is only here for a dramatic exposition. "Draco Malfoy is falling in love with Hermione Granger!"

"Really?" replied an equally as unimportant Gryffindor. "This could mean… Danger! Pansy Parkinson is going to throw a fit! So is Ron Weasley, I bet. I heard he's falling in love with Hermione too!"

"I know! All this drama is so obvious, they may as well sing a bloody song about it where Draco and Ron both clearly state that they're falling in love, falling in love, falling in love… With Hermione Granger! I'm sorry, did I just stutter?" The Ravenclaw got over her momentary speech impediment that caused her to repeat a few words, and looked over the Gryffindor's shoulder. "Danger! Snape alert!"

The Potions Master swooped into the room, and the gossipers fell deathly quiet.

"Good morning, students," Snape began, the thinly veiled disgust in his voice indicating that it really was not a good morning. "Today, we will be discussing - not our usual curriculum - but another topic that other teachers and I believe is very important."

There was a brief moment of silence as the students attempted to figure out what subject they were covering today. Snape cleared his throat awkwardly, and some would swear then that they saw a little bit of the teacher's dignity, self-respect, and soul trickle out onto the cold stone floor.

"We're addressing…" Snape cleared his throat once more and held up a thick pamphlet. "Physical health and human development."

The entire class groaned, and the Head of Slytherin House died a little - a lot - inside.

Queenie was still cringing over the recent string of education at Hogwarts. Not only were the classes useless and offensive to Queenie in her current situation, but they were also overly awkward and cringe worthy. The Selwyn could literally identify who had had a class recently by the look of pain etched in their faces and the uncontrollable twitching.

But Queenie had to admit, she didn't mind the classes. Because they stopped - or, more likely, delayed - the confrontation. The Slytherin knew she had majorly screwed up when she yelled at Draco instead of putting a few good words in for Pansy, but she couldn't help it - Draco was looking at that girl like - ugh. Queenie couldn't even explain it.

But luckily, what with all of the drama about the new classes, Pansy and her Posse had spent the last few days ignoring Queenie instead of accosting her. The girl liked this, of course, and appreciated the alone time, but she couldn't help feeling like the fight would be even more painful after days of avoiding. She only hoped that Pansy would be merciful and not let slip Queenie's secret. If that happened… Who knows what would be next? The Selwyn family would not be happy with her, and her friends were more likely to bully her than not, and the whistles and bothering and whispering would just increase. Queenie didn't know if she could handle that. But despite that, she always walked through the hallways - back straight, head up - with a not-frown on her face.

The next few weeks passed sort of normally? Draco tried out a few other hobbies and they all left him feeling emptier than before. Knitting was a bust, but Draco had a feeling it would be. He'd only recently discovered how sweaters and scarves were created (he always just thought they sort of… grew off trees or something) and right away, the novelty of the process drew the Malfoy in. He was so enchanted that he went to a HOUSE ELF for help!

Draco Malfoy going to a House Elf for help? Willingly? Unheard of!

But the particular House Elf that offered to help the student was. So. Rude!

Just because Draco dropped a few (read: all) of his stitches and sometimes (read: always) got frustrated, doesn't mean that the House Elf is allowed to viciously mouth off at Draco and throw him out!

Yeah… Basically, knitting was a total bust.

Then, Draco tried some painting. As a child, he had taken a few sketching classes - at the request of his mother, but never painting. The Malfoy found a portrait of someone painting, a certain artist named Sir Vaisley. Soon, Draco was taking Corridor Art Lessons every Thursday and Sunday. Sir Vaisley quickly discovered that Draco was not proficient at surrealism, conceptual art, pop art, or photorealism. The master of painting didn't want to fail his young pupil, so he introduced Draco to splatter painting. This was a very, very, very bad decision. The white-blonde boy got very excited at the prospect of splatter paint, enchanted his brush, and… Let's just say that the painting of Sir Vaisley is now very abstract, an entire hallway was blocked off because of the paint splatters coating the walls, and that splatter paint was now banned at Hogwarts.

Painting didn't work out exactly as Draco had planned.

After many other (failed) attempts of finding a new hobby - some examples include synchronized swimming in the Black Lake, fashion designing, being "nice", selling beanies on Etsy, writing fanfiction, and painting nails - Draco decided on something that definitely couldn't fail.

A book club.

Crabbe and Goyle weren't allowed to be in the book club because Malfoy still hadn't confirmed that Goyle could read and Crabbe was such a nerd, so Draco put signs up all over the school reading "Book Club, Wednesdays in the Library at 5 pm, bring one of your favorite books :)". The smiley face was courtesy of Blaise Zabini.

And come Wednesday, six o'clock, five people besides the Malfoy showed up, much to Draco's delight then direct disgust.

Hermione Granger, holding 11 books.

Harry Potter, holding none.

Queenie Selwyn, looking awkward and sneaking glances towards Hermione.

Stephen Cornfoot, carrying a single science fiction novel.

Lastly, and probably least, Wayne Hopkins, carrying a cat, a biography about some kid in the Caribbean who wished for a war, and a terrified expression.

An insanely awkward first meeting passed, in which Hermione was too Hermione-ish, Harry Potter was too nice and suspicious of Draco - even after the Malfoy explained what he was doing there - , Queenie revealed a kinder, softer, and fond of a certain Granger side of herself, and Stephen and Wayne discussed the merits of different genres. And surprisingly enough, the next Thursday, they all showed up once more.

Draco didn't even read the book they were supposed to be discussing, but he didn't need to. This was enough.

Maybe Draco Malfoy didn't need a hobby. Maybe all Draco Malfoy ever needed was a few true friends.


End file.
